


last song syndrome (s. eita)

by memento_amare



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Romantic Fluff, semi as a musician, well manga readers know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memento_amare/pseuds/memento_amare
Summary: also known as earworm, the condition of having a song play repeatedly in one's head.(or, semi can't get you out of his mind—and heart.)
Relationships: Semi Eita/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	last song syndrome (s. eita)

there’s a song that’s playing on repeat in his head, and its perpetrator is laying on his lap right at this moment.

“are you even studying, eita?” your peek at him from over the reviewer. he doesn’t need to see the teasing smile on your lips to hear it.

“i _am_ ,” he mutters, shifting the app on his phone to the reading material he saved on his drive.

“liar. the game music stopped just now, you can’t fool my ears.” he flicks your forehead, unable to redeem himself after that. your laugh turns to a yelp. 

“do you want me to quiz you or something?”

“no, it’s fine, reon just messaged the chat to say it was moved to friday.” 

“ugh, lucky.” after a few minutes, you break the silence again. “teach me how to play sometime.” 

“hm?” you’re staring at his guitar. _oh._ “ask one of your clubmates.”

“they’re not you though. i’m asking _you._ ” you look up at him pleadingly. his heart stutters, breath hitching in his throat, and he hopes desperately that your ears don’t pick up on _that_. 

there’s a mixture of happiness and sharp, crushing feeling of defeat-before-it-even-started, achingly familiar yet also tiring, a loop of feelings that never fail to come when it’s you.

(it’s hard being in love with your best friend.)

“just one lesson! if i suck, you can forget about it and i’ll treat you to inarizushi.” semi locks his phone, plopping it beside his guitar. his hands begin to play with your hair, combing through the strands and fanning it across his lap. you relax into his touch with a content sigh, though your gaze never leaves him.

(he really, _really_ should stop letting his hopes get up before it’s too late.)

“… fine.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“does my pinky go on the B or E string?”

“hold on, here…” he sits cross-legged beside you, hands gently positioning your fingers, guiding you through each chord. _C. D. E. G._

“F is kinda hard, so let’s skip that for now…“ he looks up to see your gaze not on the guitar nor your fingers, but on him. it darts back to your fingers as soon as he catches you staring, but it’s too late. 

belatedly, he realizes that holding your hand like this was probably a bad idea. his mind is a jumble, the only thing playing on repeat right now being how your hand is warm and soft and so _small_ compared to his—

“—eita? you okay?” you ask hesitantly. your question snaps him back to reality and he coughs, drawing away from you and letting his hand fall to his side.

“peachy.” 

(he most definitely is not okay.)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

it’s not like he hasn’t tried getting rid of it. she plays over his feelings with something else—anything, really—just to convince himself that he’s not in love with his best friend. every time he tries, you interrupt his rhythm with a smile that makes his heart beat erratically, or a hand slipped through his so easily that it makes him a second too late. 

he only realized it after he fell, when you began to occupy every spare inch of his mind. it’s a song he practiced without knowing, and now, it’s become muscle memory.

because it’s you, his first cheerleader when he mentioned his interest in music, the one who he’s send his first few covers to for feedback, the one who watched his livestream at 1am on instagram, the one who filmed his entire performance during the school fair last year even if it meant saving a spot two hours earlier and your phone dying for the rest of the night. 

semi doesn’t want to make anything awkward, doesn’t want to lose what precious music you had already brought into his life. 

from the other end of the classroom, you laugh at your friend’s joke, snarking a comeback in between giggles. his gaze gravitates toward you, seeing you grin while writing in your notebook. it’s mind-numbingly bright, like the first strum of a song that he knows will remain stuck in his head, the kind he listened to a hundred times but will listen to a hundred time more all the same.

tendou pops up beside him, following his line of sight to you before grinning infuriatingly wide. “you’re blushing, semi-semi~”

semi scowls, the tips of his ears also turning a bright red at the statement. “there’s _nothing_ happening. shut up.” the red-haired boy cackles.

“that’s not _nothing_ , semi-semi!”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

as this year’s school fair comes to a close, tendou’s words echo in his head. you wave him over with a bright smile and a wave, a celebratory ice cream already in your hands.

“don’t tell me you haven’t been craving, i know you better than that,” you say by greeting, handing the paper cup to him. he hums contentedly when he finally puts the wooden spoon in his mouth; it’s been a whole week since he’s last had anything cold or sweet, in preparation for the band performance that had just finished earlier.

in the bliss of the moment, he mixes up _‘i like this flavor’_ and _‘thank you’_ into what is probably the most lackluster and embarrassing way of confessing.

“i like you.” in the dark, illuminated by the stalls and lanterns, the music screeches to an abrupt halt. you run down the options in your head carefully, not wanting to read _too_ much into it, especially when those are the three words you’ve always wanted to say and dreamed of _him_ to say to you.

(he’s the one you’d drop everything for to jam with in the back room until curfew, the one who plays with your hair and flicks your forehead and listen to you rant about the latest netflix release and the demise of society within the same breath. he’s the one who believed and cheered you on when you studied for and passed the exam with the cut-off grade for your dream college. he’s the one who you’ve given yourself to and who’s given back to you.)

you choose your words like an answer to a test. “sure, eita. i like you too, and i like ice cream too.”

and maybe it’s tendou’s words echoing in his mind again, or simply the song that his heart has written onto the tip of his tongue. he has the chance to agree, to laugh off his comment as a misstep, except it’s also the chance to say what he’s always wanted to say. the music awaits his response. he exhales, and prepares to play the most important song of the night.

“that’s… not what i meant.” his feet shuffles, eyes falling to the side, refocusing on the grass beneath. here, confronted with you, he relents, to a struggle that had been lost from the start. there’s no melody worth trying to play if you’re not in it, and trying to prove otherwise has been futile; in the end, it’ll always be you that’s stuck in his head and in his heart. 

“oh.” you’re flushed scarlet, and no amount of low light can hide the color that burns though your face. your heart is a mess, scales falling into skips and half-steps. hesitantly, you reach up, brushing through the strands of his two toned hair with your fingers before letting your hand slide down his jaw and rest on his shoulder.

“i like you, eita—and i mean it.” you press yourself up on your tiptoes, kissing him softly on the edge of his mouth. you pull away slowly, eyes locking with his as his gaze softens from its initial surprise. he braves one step closer, a hand cupping your cheek, the curve of your jaw the final blade that cuts the string holding him back. when your eyes flutter shut, the music begins in earnest.

the kiss is chaste, hesitant, barely even a brush of lips before he pulls away not even a second later. he sets the mood, a delicate yet bewitching melody that consumes every single inch of you until he’s the only thing you hear. it tastes like ice cream and intro to pre-chorus, a build up cut off before the real moment. 

“was that okay?” he mumbles under his breath, but your ears catch it. you respond by kissing him again, your hands winding in his hair to bring him closer. his arms immediately wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him. you fast-forward the song from the first chorus to the last, bringing it up into a crescendo, for you know that for all his hesitance, semi is still a fiery man. 

he’ll trace notes all over your skin, again and again, every single pattern of the feelings he has on loop when it comes to you. when this song ends, it’ll come back, over and over, perhaps changing in some elements, but never in its muse. here is a melody crafted by ear, notes strung and pulled by his very heartstrings.

if this is what plays on repeat his whole life, semi thinks he wouldn’t mind that at all. 


End file.
